Sexy Perfume!
by Jaxolelady
Summary: SMUT ALERT...do not enter unless you want to read some DETTY smut! : My version of what could have happened if Daniel would have come back to the office in "Odor in the Court".
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: One shot of what could have happened if Daniel would have come back to the office when Betty was all hopped up on Claire's perfume in "Odor in the Court". **_

* * *

"I got your care package RIGHT HERE!" she said as she took two steps and leaped into Henry's arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and began kissing him fiercely. Betty felt as though she were on fire from the inside out as Henry returned her embrace. The stunned silence around her didn't phase her, she just had to kiss him, she wanted him to take her right then and there in the elevator! What was that she remembered reading in "Making your man a bottom"? Oh yes! Leave him wanting more.

She released her hold on Henry and backed away from him. With a flirty wink she said, "I love you too", then turned from Henry's stunned face and walked away.

"Well! Look who went from flirty to dirty!", Christina exclaimed as Betty threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly.

" I don't care", Betty said as she squeezed Christina in her arms, "It felt good, and if it feels good do it!" Then she turned and licked Christina across the cheek. Betty ignored her friend's wildly flaying arms and continue to squeeze and walk with her. Actually dragging her along the tube with her.

"That is so weird!" Betty exclaimed, "Is there an echo in here?" She shook Christina slightly as she threw her head back and yelled, "HELLLLLLOOOOO!"

"Betty!", Daniel exclaimed as he rounded the receptionist desk. "Are you okay?" he asked as he gently touched her arm.

Betty felt every nerve ending in her body come to attention. The little hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she felt uncontrollable heat spiral from the innocent point of contact straight to her belly. As the heat rose to her cheeks she dropped Christina with a light thud. Her vision seemed to tunnel in on Daniel. On his face, his hair. Why hadn't she ever noticed how thick and dark his hair was before? God, it looked like chocolate! She wanted to swirl her hands all through it.

Those eyes! That mouth! The man was a virtual smorgasbord of sexy deliciousness.

And Betty was starving.

She ran a shaky hand over his arm and smiled up at him,"I'm fine Daniel, there's just ugh something I need to go over with you."

Before he had a chance to respond she began dragging him down the tube toward his office. Daniel had to laugh, Betty looked all flustered and cute. And man was she strong today, he thought as she all but carried him the rest of the way to his office.

She shoved him through the opening of his door, Daniel stumbled slightly but managed to catch himself on one of the many shelves lining his walls.

"Betty-", he began but came up short when he felt her arms wrap around him from behind. He reached for her hands, and as he pried them off his shirt he noticed that her body temperature seemed to be strangely high.

Holding her hands and arms aloft, he turned around. The look of pure female arousal on his sweet little Betty's face nearly floored him. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips large, pink and luscious, she tossed her glasses while his back was turned, and run her hands through her hair giving it a sexy tousled look. She yanked her hands from his grasp and pressed her body against his. He got a whiff of her scent, it was somehow Betty but at the same time it held a certain something that was making his libido stand up and take notice.

"God, Betty", he moaned as he sniffed her neck, "you smell good."

"It's that perfume I'm holding for your mother", she said as she sank her teeth into her lower lip and began tugging his shirt out of his pants. Her hands ran underneath his shirt, exploring the planes of his abs with her nimble fingers. She looked up at him through a sexual haze, "Kiss me Daniel."

He didn't think twice, didn't pause to consider the irrational way she was behaving. All he knew was that since he'd smelled her neck he wanted her, and she wanted him.

And he was going to have her.

He was going to make her HIS in every way possible. Sinking his hands into her hair he leaned down and laid his lips on hers. His tongue slid across her full bottom lip, begging for her to open her mouth. Her lips parted and he dove in, she tasted of lemon drops and faintly of old coffee. She was the best thing Daniel had ever tasted in his life. She kissed him back, sliding her tongue over his, while simultaneously sliding his jacket off and unbuttoning his shirt. He broke the kiss and began kissing her all over her face, nibbling at her earlobes, and sliding his tongue across her neck. He enjoyed the little moaning noises she made as he kissed his way down to her collar bone. The sound of her pleasure going straight to his groin. He pushed her up against the wall and stepped in between her legs. Betty wrapped one leg around his hip, while his hands simultaneously roamed up her thigh and down her torso. He paused to smooth his hands down her curves, overjoyed at what she had been hiding underneath her clothes all this time. His played with her nipples through her top, noting that her breathing hitched and her pelvis ground into him.

He grunted in response, as a heady mixture of her arousal and her perfume poured over him. Rolling across his senses. His hands skimmed up her thighs and under her dress, ripped her panties off. His thumbs skimmed the outer folds of her lips. He moaned when he realized she was wet, hot and ready for him. Bringing his fingers to his mouth he tasted her. God she was definitely the best thing he had ever tasted! He was just sliding down her body to get a full taste of her when his office door banged open.

"Danny! I think we need to go over how we will present a united front at mom's trial tomor-" Alexis strutted into her brother's office without hesitation only to come up sharply as she took in the scene before her, " what the hell is going on here!" She yelled when she noticed her brother all but devouring innocent little Betty.

Daniel immediately shot to his feet and Betty wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his now exposed chest. Daniel was shocked find that instead of being embarrassed, she was in fact nuzzling the skin there, nipping lightly. He wrapped her in his arms and turned his head to look at a shocked Alexis.

"I umm...guess the stress...of umm mom being.." Daniel stuttered out.

"Oh Daniel!", Betty exclaimed as she pushed away from his chest and spun towards Alexis,"We were just having a little bit of fun, you know." She said with a jaunty wink.

Daniel watched in shock as she shamelessly flitted around the room, gathering her tattered panties and discarded glasses. He couldn't help but look at Alexis with a what-the-fuck look clearly written across his face. He found that his sister reflected the look back at him.

Betty pulled Daniel down to her level and gave him another earth shattering kiss on the lips, and another flirty kiss on the nose.

"We'll finish this later big boy!" she said with a wink before sauntering past a stunned Alexis, and through the door.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: First of MAJOR SMUT ALERT! THERE I WARNED YOU. Hey guys I just want to thank everyone for the feedback. I had intended for this to be a single shot. "Odor in the Court" is one of my favorite UB episodes, mainly because it is a major turning point in the relationship between Daniel and Betty. Anyway, I kept trying to figure out how to write another chapter for this FF, and I started and stopped like five times. **_

_**And then. **_

_**I woke up at 12 midnight tonight with the muse riding my back like a painted pony in a rodeo. It took me 3 hours to write and edit this. It is in first person, so it is a change from chapter 1, but it just felt right to present how I think Betty would feel after coming down from her drug induced rampage. **_

_**Anyway, leave feedback; positive, negative whatever. :) I get a special little thrill with each review!**_

* * *

Heat.

That's what I felt every single time I found or felt his eyes on me. My entire being-all the neurons, synapses, sinew and muscle- burned up under his cobalt gaze. Singed at the microscopic level.

I can still feel his hands on me. How is that possible? Each curved imprint of skin on those digits. Daniel's hands are hot, steady, strong but rough.

Rough? Shockingly enough, yes, the man of many manicures has rough hands. Over the phalanges where the bony prominences rub against the hot pink skin of his palms.

How can his hands look so large against my body? Make me feel so small and protected? How can they feel so right sliding up my thigh, cupping my breasts as if they were made for him.

His thumb sliding over my hot swollen mouth.

God! I have to stop thinking about his hands.

This is hard.

I mean this is not easy!

Every innocent exchange I have with him in the days, weeks and months following 'perfume-gate' I can't help but stare; I can't help accidentally bumping into them, brushing them at least 50 times a day.

One day, we are going over his schedule-our usual routine- and he is eating his bagel. A bit of cream cheese gets on his thumb, and he slides it into his mouth! Right in front of me! He is looking down at random paperwork on his desk, and he looks up and catches my eye. His gosh darned thumb is half-way out of his mouth. My pulse is hammering in my neck.

A hummingbird in my throat, and his eyes smile, ACTUALLY smile at me.

He slowly slides that thumb out, that fricking smile still in place. Full lips tilted up, devious dimple winking in his right cheek.

I stand, turn, and walk out of his office. I dump my papers on my desk and do not stop-DO NOT COLLECT $200- I simply go to the ladies room and quietly masturbate until I am gushing-GUSHING- over the toilet. I have never, ever done that; but today because of his stupid mouth, and his stupid thumb, and stupid big hot hands, and that stupid perfume! I can't think straight, I can barely breathe! This gives me some relief, some peace.

I do not make a noise.

I bite my bottom lip so hard that it bleeds. My hands are covered with my own warm fragrant cum and I want nothing more than to pay him back for the thumb move by rubbing my hands all over his face.

Inside his mouth.

That thought starts the heat up all over again, but I am more in control now. I pull my panties up and flush the toilet. I start to wash my hands when an idea suddenly occurs to me.

I know how to fight back.

He told me during his awkward apology for 'perfume-gate' that it was my scent that had sent his brain on vacation. In his stammering way he told me that it took over something in him, that it blended with my natural chemistry in such a way, and "Damnit Betty I'm only a man!" that he couldn't and wouldn't control himself.

So I knew that HE KNEW my scent.

And now it covered my hands.

Five minutes after that it covered his files, his mail, the outside of the coffee cup I handed to him. It was all over the mock-up that the art department brought me just before it was time to leave. It was all over everything.

I wanted my revenge, but I wasn't quite ready for the aftermath.

I could see the moment, the minute-the very second- that it broke over him.

I was watching.

He froze. I could see his chest expand, taking it in. One deep breath. His eyes snapped to mine; literally SNAPPED. I was shocked that the circular glass between us didn't break. That's how sharp those diamond edge eyes were when they turned to me.

We sat there alone in the Mode offices, the hour late, the sky darkening; sat there in a silent war of eyes. Neither of us looking away.

We were playing chicken, this sensual, sexual game of chicken. He pushed his chair back, not moving further than that, waiting for my reaction.

I pushed my chair back.

He stood up and leaned on his desk. Shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, forearms bulging.

I stood up and leaned on my desk, my tongue sliding over my sore bottom lip.

His breath caught.

Held.

And suddenly what I was doing washed over me.

WHAT WAS I DOING?

I had a boyfriend. A boyfriend that I loved.

A boyfriend that loved me.

What was I doing putting myself in this position with Daniel Meade? My boss, my friend.

I saw the change in his posture, and I knew that he knew I was wavering. Backing down.

He raised an eyebrow.

I grabbed my coat and ran. Ran as fast I could. Skidding to stop in front of the elevators, frantically pushing buttons.

Where was the fricking elevator?

I could hear footsteps, heavy, pounding footsteps.

Daniel!

I did the only thing I could think of- the only thing that made sense to me in that frantic, fear-filled moment.

I ran, hitting the stair well at a break neck, eyebrow raising pace. I flew, FLEW down those stairs.

I was almost sure that I had gotten away. I convinced myself that the pounding I was hearing was my heart in my ears.

So I slowed down.

And then he was upon me. Grabbing me. Pushing me into a corner. Covering my body with his. Pressing into me, making me moan, making me want him all over again.

His scent-HIS SCENT- washing over me. Covering me. Musk, coffee, fresh fabric and something else-something indescribable. It called to me, sucked me in.

God, his eyes! His eyes were so dark. Stormy blue.

I just about fainted when he raised my hands to his face, burying his nose in them, inhaling me. My heart almost beat out of my chest.

"What did you do?", he voice, deep husky so much like my Daniel and NOT like my Daniel at all-came to me through the fog.

"I masturbated in the ladies room", came a sultry, sex kitten voice. Was that voice MINE?, "I gushed all over myself, so I thought I would share the love."

Swooning, I was surely swooning when he sucked each individual finger into his mouth, swirled his tongue around it and releasing it with a pop.

And then he was kissing me, or am I kissing him? Are those my hands in his hair? Digging into his scalp, tugging him closer.

His hands sliding up my thighs. God when did I wrap my legs around his waist?

He groans into my mouth as his hands reach the top of my thigh highs, his fingers digging into my flushed hot flesh.

Kneading, his thumbs sliding over the super sensitive creases of my thighs.

Is that breathy little,"Daniel", really from me?

Suddenly, he pulls away from me, resting his forehead against mine. He is panting. PANTING! And god help me but even that is sexy.

"Why aren't you wearing pantyhose Betty?" comes his completely left field comment.

I have no idea how to react to that.

"There are cameras everywhere", he mutters, as he lets my legs slide down his body and back to the floor.

It's a good thing he is holding me, or else I am sure that I would've slid to a boneless heap in the floor.

His thumb brushes over my swollen bottom lip. Noting the bite mark there he raises a brow.

"I couldn't make any noise", I say in my relatively normal voice, "you know, when it was time."

His eyes go darker, almost black-blue. It's beautiful and terrifying. "What were you thinking about?" he mutters.

"You", I whisper my voice light and slightly embarrassed now,"You're lips, your hands on me. Down there."

His eyes smile. How does he do that? They smile at me and then he says,"Down where Betty?"

"You know", I mutter. REALLY embarrassed now.

He leans closer to my ear, licks the shell of it.

I clench, gush again. My breathing picks up.

"Say it", he whispers right into my ear, "Say pussy."

I bite the corner of my mouth, hesitating, thinking, and suddenly I feel his lips on my neck, teeth, tongue sucking.

"Pussy", my vixen voice comes out of my mouth, "You were sucking and licking and eating my pussy. I gushed all over myself, my hands and the toilet in less than 5 minutes."

He pulled back from me again, and the look on his face. God, the look on his face is so in control and out of control at the same time. Eyes lasered on me.

He closed his eyes, fighting for control.

I cling to him.

"We can't do this here", he says quietly,"I won't let the night guard gets his rocks off from us."

"Daniel", I breath, sanity slowly starting to sink in,"We can't do this at all."

He holds me tighter, so tight it is almost painful, but not nearly as painful as the lump forming in my throat. He kisses my neck in three spots, over and over again.

I know he knows. We can't do this because he is my boss, and I his employee. We can't do this because I have Henry, and I won't betray him. We can't do this because we are Betty and Daniel, and Betty and Daniel don't have wild sex in stairwells.

He lets me go, and I immediately feel lost.

One last caress of my cheek, my eyes slide closed, and he is gone.

I make my way home in a daze. Make my excuses to Henry over the phone in a daze. All I can think about is Daniel. I don't want any other man to touch me.

What was the point? I didn't fit with anyone like I fit with Daniel.

Daniel!

I spend the night in my bed alternating between crying and masturbating. I turn on music, and pretend I don't have to wake up tomorrow and go back to work and pretend to be Daniel Meade's loyal, innocent little assistant.

Somehow we manage it. He comes in the next day and we only manage to have one tense heat filled moment.

We weren't even touching. It was an accident really, that Amanda was sitting so closely to me, that she noticed the marks he left on my neck the night before.

She simply gestured to my neck and muttered, "Ewe, nerd love."

Daniel heard her, and I heard her.

And our eyes locked.

Held.

I wore high necked shirts everyday for two weeks after that.

I make sure that I am out of the room when eats his bagels. I invite him to all of Henry's band's gigs because I want to keep an eye on what he is doing at night.

Most of the time I can lure him out.

I consider it a personal triumph that I haven't been forced to order any flowers or Tiffany's "usuals" since 'stairwell-gate'.

And then he meets HER. Personally, I don't see the attraction. She's tall, thin but muscular; sexy curves.

Not his type.

But he dances with her, and I catch them kissing at least five times before they disappear out the door shortly before 1:00 am.

That night I get completely wasted on vodka shots and appletinis.

In the morning I could see things in a happier, albeit more harsh, light. Daniel was a free man, he could do whatever he wanted.

Besides, how many kisses had he witnessed between Henry and I? Not that many lately, but still since 'stairwell-gate' there had been at least one.

I just can't bring myself to really kiss my boyfriend anymore. It doesn't feel appropriate. I feel like I am cheating on DANIEL anytime Henry touches me.

Daniel obviously has no such reservations about his new girlfriend Renee.

I laugh with pure joy when Christina tells me that Renee is Wilhelmina's sister. I want to jump up and down and yell "Yay!".

God, I hated when she touched my Daniel.

So he comes to my house, all but asking for my permission to pursue her, and then when I tell him to go after her; he looks at me like a shot his puppy. Did he think I would stop him? I've seen Daniel with this woman, and she makes him happy.

And the one thing I really want for Daniel is happiness.

At this point Henry and I haven't had sex in almost two months. He is getting antsy, I can tell. So I tell him I just don't want to and he respects that. He tries to "kick-start" things with a weekend away for my birthday.

I have to say I am almost relieved to see Charlie standing in his apartment on the day we are supposed to leave. I run to Daniel instead of going home. I expect something from him-A Happy Birthday at least-but he is so focused on _HER _that he doesn't even realize he's given me the day off.

The more he talks about her, her needs, her feelings; the more crushed I feel. I distance myself from him, acting only as his assistant for that day.

I want to cry, run to the bathroom and cry but I don't. I'm Betty Suarez. I am a strong, confident, business woman. I can handle anything.

I want to smash the gift he sits on my desk. Take it to the copy room and smash it into a million pieces.

But deep down I know that if Daniel is serious this time, if this Renee is the one, then I'll have to leave Meade.

I won't be able to handle it. So it comes as no surprise when I find myself browsing the want ads. Inquiring from various connections if there are any openings at any other companies.

I want to throw a party when Henry informs me that Charlie would be in town until the end of her pregnancy.

When Renee begins to call me to make plans for her and Daniel; I have to admit I am difficult toward her on purpose.

Darn it! It makes me mad.

When she becomes obsessive I become a little concerned. Is this normal behavior for a relationship?

I don't know, what I do KNOW is that I need Daniel at his best. Everything is riding on the next two weeks; two weeks of advertising meetings and closing another issue of Mode. Two weeks that could kill Daniel's career or put him on the map.

I am determined to show him that he CAN do this.

I suppose that I should not have been surprised that Renee would want to kill me. Maybe she was a mind reader and she could hear me mentally screaming at her,"Do you like the way my PUSSY tastes? Huh? Do you?"

But I just knew that was the last time I would ever hear Daniel's voice, and before I knew what was happening I was screaming my love to him. Because I did. I loved him.

Wait, I love Daniel?

I suppose I deserve to die like this. A fiery painful death. A death fitting of a harlot, a whore. I had, after all, technically cheated on my boyfriend with Daniel.

I'm almost surprised there are no stones.

I am only slightly giddy with shock when I manage to talk Renee out of killing me. I scream the one thing at her that has the power to rip my heart from my chest.

I know Daniel doesn't love this girl, but if those words can stop her, can give me another day with the man I love, then so be it.

I hurl them at her, and then put out the fire.

I have never been so happy to see someone break a door down as I was see Daniel bursting through the door of his loft. I am riding on some sort of strange adrenaline high for the rest of the night.

I feel so confident, so sure that nothing is wrong with me that I sit in disbelief as the paramedic tells me that I have to be taken to the hospital.

The delicate flesh of my wind pipe has been burned apparently. I need treatment in the burn unit.

Daniel is in a panic. Frantic hands through messed up hair. Body shaking and voice low and dangerous to the men wheeling me through hallway and into the elevator.

As I struggle to breathe, things go a bit hazy. I can hear a voice snap out that no one other than the patient is allowed to ride in the back of ambulance, I can also hear-as everything becomes darker and further away- a voice reminiscent of Bradford Meade threatening a job, a livelihood.

I can feel Daniel's hand in mine.

And then I feel nothing at all.

It doesn't really come as a shock to me when I wake up to find Daniel's body half draped over mine. His fingers intertwine with mine even in sleep.

I have to smile, as much as that hurts at that point, because his position is so similar to the one I held after his car accident a year earlier.

I shake off the last of the darkness, and command control over my other-free- hand in order to shake him awake.

I find myself doing less shaking and more stroking of his thick brown mane. He is so beautiful in this restful state that all I can do is stare, and when his eyes pop open and immediately fill with tears, he becomes more than beautiful to me.

He becomes everything.

Over the next two weeks I recover from my injuries. Apparently, my right lung collapsed on the way to the hospital. I went into cardiac arrest twice, and fell into a coma that my doctor was less than confident I would come out of.

And through it all Daniel was there, the rock, the new Betty as Hilda jokingly called him.

Daniel-the mother hen- clucking over me day and night. Sleeping on my family's old worn sofa. Bringing me breakfast in bed every morning.

Daniel bringing Mode into Casa de Suarez, using Justin as his stand-in Betty.

Daniel, who never left my side. Daniel who held me when I cried from my inability to even bathe myself. Daniel who yelled back at me when I yelled at him for care-taking too much.

Daniel. Daniel. My Daniel. My selfish, spoiled little rich boy. The man that couldn't even get his own bagel and coffee was learning to make my Papi's empanadas.

When Henry comes to say goodbye, his hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes downcast I have to actually downplay my relief. It's over, finally, finally over. I loved him but his love was a weight I did not want to bear.

That was the first night Daniel slept in my bed with me. He simply came in after his shower; old, cut off sweat pants slung low on his hips, chest bare. He lined his toiletries up on my dresser beside mine-the act more intimate than anything we had ever done together-tossed his dirty clothes into my laundry basket and lay down in the bed beside me.

I looked at him in confusion, glanced at the door.

He smirked. Raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just waiting for papi to burst in here", I said quietly.

His amusement grows. "He told me I could stay in here from day one. Said since I spent so much time at your bedside in the hospital that it really didn't matter now."

He grabbed my chin, placing a shockingly gentle kiss firm on my lips, wrapped his arms around me. Snuggled down.

I'm shocked, but happy. Confused, but happy. Turned on, but happy.

Happy is the one feeling that is the constant in the emotions churning through me, so I hold on to that, and let the rest go.

The real world starts to invade our little peaceful Suarez-Meade haven. At first it starts with small things, Wilhelmina completely disregarding Daniel's ideas for his magazine, and Alexis backing her up.

Then the creeping stories on fashion TV, wondering where Daniel Meade is.

And then someone takes a picture of Daniel and I sitting on the front step. My head on his shoulder, his lips on the top of my head, our arms and hands locked together. Worn green house as our backdrop.

I just wanted some fresh air that day.

The news breaks.

The house is swarmed.

Daniel is PISSED.

Alexis and Claire descend, fighting their way through the storming reporters, the flashing lights.

Alexis paces from the dining room and back, a cup of tea in her hand. Daniel is leaning against the door frame leading into the dining room, watching his sister pace, the only evidence of his annoyance the slight tick in his cheek. Claire sits beside me, our hands clasped, both of us watching the scene unfold.

Alexis stops.

Daniel straightens up.

"You have to step down as editor-in-chief of Mode, Daniel", she says decisively.

"No", comes his strong, but short, reply.

"This", she says waving her free-hand around, "Is a disaster Daniel! What are you thinking? You're assistant, you're young, messy, visually unappealing assistant? I have to do this for damage control!"

The room is quiet, I'm sure I can hear a pin drop somewhere outside.

Daniel unfolds his arms. To a casual observer he appears to just be standing there watching. Straightening his posture.

I know better.

I know Daniel's temper. I know the look on his face. I know that he is about to erupt like Fourpeaked Mountain; spewing a lifetime of frustration and angst all over Alexis' head.

I swiftly cross the room, locking my arm in his. Locking my eyes with his. I can see it, all that anger, I can see it melt away like ice, leaving only the warm blue behind.

I smile, he sighs.

"I love Betty", he declares. Shocking the room into pin dropping silence again.

"That's all well and good-", Alexis begins.

"It IS all well and good", he says turning away from me to face his sister, "So good Alexis."

And something in his tone stops her, she looks at him.

Really looks at him.

I'm sure my cheeks are going to crack and break I am smiling so wide. I can't stop even as I turn to Alexis and declare.

"I quit."

More pin drop silence.

And then everything erupts into chaos.

My dad comes rushing in from the kitchen, Hilda from the stairs, someone knocks on the front door. Everyone is yelling at me.

Daniel wraps me in his arms.

"Stop", he says quietly. The kind of commanding quiet that I've always known he was capable of, "This is Betty's decision."

He looks down at me, and we have one of those quiet Betty-Daniel conversations that no one else understands but us.

He sighs.

"Alright then", he says his voice still quiet, commanding and now ironic,"I quit as well."

Chaos again.

My heart is going to beat out of my chest.

Again.

A small voice, a small soft FRENCH voice breaks through everything.

"Je m'appelle Daniel", he begins looking around the room at all of us-the light of hope flickering in his eyes, "Je cherche pour Daniel Meade."

All eyes swing to Daniel's face.

Daniel stares back, completely confused.

My eyes remain on the cherub like face of the blond little boy that just walked into our lives. I'm sure I'm the only one in the room who understood what he just said.

I silently thank God that I minored in French.

"C'est Daniel Meade", I said gesturing toward the man at my side.

The little boy's eyes locked on mine.

Held.

My heart skipped a beat. I disentangled myself from Daniel's arms and walked over to the little boy.

Dropped down on one knee. Gently touching his hand.

Slender, strong, rough little hand.

Staring into his eyes.

Strong, gentle, shy blue eyes. The eyes of Claire Meade.

And Daniel Meade.

"Tu recherches pour votre père?" I asked him quietly. The relieved look that passes through his eyes causes my heart to clinch.

I see Claire's hand flutter to her mouth out of the corner of my eye.

"Oui", he sighs out and then presses a worn folded letter into my hand and begins firing off rapidly in french.

I read as he talks, telling me his life story.

I feel Daniel's hand touch my shoulder. I look over at him. He is kneeling beside me in front of little Daniel.

In front of his son.

My eyes tell little Daniel's story, translating it from french to Betty-Daniel.

Finally, he understands. His eyes widen, denial clear in their depths.

"Daniel-" I sigh out because I know what he is about to say.

"It's a scam", he stamps out, "Or one of Wilhelmina's tricks."

"His mother's name is Lucy Shannen, a hand model you met in France in 1997", I read from the letter. I looked over at Daniel as he looks at little Daniel whose eyes are transfixed on me.

"She died Daniel", I push out past the lump in my throat. This little boy is motherless.

Just like me.

"She gave him this letter when he was 8 years old", I continued,"In case anything ever happened to her, so that he could come find his father."

His eyes caught mine.

Held.

And finally, FINALLY, I see acceptance. I turn to little Daniel.

"Quel est votre nom au complet?", I ask him quietly because I can't keep calling him little Daniel in my head.

"Daniel Meade, JR.", he answers immediately.

The room erupts into chaos. AGAIN. This time it is me that quiets everyone.

"Shut it!" I yell, silencing everyone.

"Puis-je t'appelles DJ?", I ask him with a small smile.

"Oui", he says his mouth tipping up at the corner in an eerily similar rendition of his father's,"Ma mère m'appelle DJ!"

A right cheek dimple winks.

Alexis gasps, finally seeing it.

Claire is in tears now.

I hand part of my heart to this little boy.

"Okay!", I say happily to everyone around me, "Everyone this is DJ, Daniel's son from France."

Open mouth shock greets my statement.

"Dj", I say drawing his attention back to me,"Je m'appelle Betty, et c'est ma soir Hilda, mon pere Ignacio, mon neveu Justin, votre tante Alexis, votre grand-mère Claire Meade, et votre père Daniel Meade."

Dj smiles at each person as I introduce them, and I can see his little mind trying to put the names with the faces.

"Dj", I call gently again, "Parles-tu anglais?"

He looks down and I can see that he is more than a little embarrassed, "A little", he says quietly his voice soft and heavily accented.

I smile at him. God, he is so much like Daniel. I want to wrap him up in my arms and lock him away from the world. Keep him sweet and innocent.

I sigh and look at Daniel. His entire being is concentrated on his son.

"C'est mon chérie d'accord" I say in reassurance, "Je peux vous enseigner."

"I'll help you learn English Dj", I say in English.

Dj smiles happily at me.

"Thank ...you Betty", he says slowly but clearly a light stain of blush appearing on his cheeks.

For the next week my family tries to talk me into going back to Mode.

I call all of my contacts seeking employment. Help Daniel contact Dj's grandparents in France.

Daniel enrolls in Fall online classes for his Master's of Business Administration at NYU. He offers to send me to journalism school.

A Meade Scholarship he calls it.

I refuse him.

He asks me again.

I refuse him and keep searching for a job.

He asks me again.

I finally consent to APPLY to Columbia University's Journalism school. I seriously don't think I'll get in.

We sleep together every night, and every night he just kisses my forehead, wraps me in his arms and falls asleep.

After about five days of this crap I am ready to explode.

On the sixth night I wait until he falls asleep. Wait until the house is quiet.

And then I take off all of my clothes and climb on top of him.

He wakes up grabbing for me. When his hands touch my bare skin he pauses, looks at me through drowsy eyes and then goes into a frenzy.

He drags himself into a sitting position, taking me with him. Reaches for me, pulls me into his body.

His hands roam all over my body. Lips and hands and teeth and tongue OH MY! I have to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out my pleasure.

I draw blood again. He kisses my boo-boo. Slides his shorts off. I hover over him, teasing him in a way I've never been bold enough to do with anyone else before.

This is the moment. The moment that we have both been waiting for -for, well at least for the last five months.

Maybe longer.

I hover above him, teasing the tip of his cock with my opening. Wetting it.

Daniel's eyes are so dark they look like flint. His face is hard, breathing harsh. I slowly lower myself on to him. Inch by beautiful inch. Stretching myself. I slide down to the hilt. The pleasure is overwhelming.

My breasts flat against his chest. Our bellies locked together. His arms locked around my back. Our foreheads touching, lips dancing over each other's. My hands in his hair. My knees locked around his hips.

I don't move, don't rock my hips. I squeeze him from the inside. Clenching around him.

Once. Twice. Three times before a small groan escapes his lips.

Our eyes meet.

Hold.

I begin grinding my hips in slow, slow circles. Daniel helps me by sliding his big, hot hands down my back. Grabbing my ass. Kneading. Pushing down.

That act alone is so sexy to me, such a turn on that it takes less than a minute to bring me to teeth clenching, soul shattering orgasm.

Daniel begins to undulate beneath me. The bed squeaking softly. Pumping into my sensitive flesh.

I pressed my hips down, my grinding matching his pace. My second orgasm flows over me, taking over my whole body. Lasts so long that I actually pass out. A heap on Daniel's shoulder.

I hear him chuckle. He kisses my shoulder, my collar bone. Buries his face in my neck.

We are sticky with sweat. Totally spent.

It doesn't occur to me that we didn't use any sort of protection until the next day, while I'm in the shower.

But I figure it's only one time. What are the odds that my first time with Daniel Meade will create a child between us?

Doesn't it take most couples months, even years sometimes to have a child?

What makes us so special?

Since I was privy to all of Daniel's medical information I knew I had nothing to worry about as far as STIs went.

Lost in my thoughts, the water began to cool.

I guess I should have expected it. The overly-worried father explosion that occurred during breakfast.

But I didn't.

My father asked Daniel's intentions toward me.

Daniel froze. Fork half-way to his mouth. A storm cloud of a frown forming on his forehead.

"Papi!", I yelled, trying to turn his attention toward me; however, my old man wouldn't be distracted from his goal.

I guess I should have expected it. The sudden smoothing of Daniel's features, the determined expression, the light honest eyes.

"I'm her's forever", he said in the ensuing pin drop silence, "If she'll have me."

My hand seems to raise to his cheek of it's own accord.

"I have you Daniel", I say.

My father smiles.

There is a collective sigh of relief around the table.

"Betty", Dj's sweet distinctive voice pulls me out of my Daniel induced trance. I turn my head in his direction.

"Are-you and mon pere-ugh-", he hesitates his brow creasing the same way Daniel's does when he is confused, "Are you mon pere's femme?

Daniel laughs, deep chuckles that vibrate to my very soul. "I actually understood that", he says to the table in general.

I elbow him, and he laughs some more, reaching over and placing a gentle hand on Dj's shoulder.

"Dj", he said drawing his son's attention to him, "Betty ...ummmm..est m'amour, and...ummm.. un jour j'espère que ma ummm...wife. Okay? Someday."

I thought I was about to burst, my pride was so great in the man sitting beside me. He stumbled over his french, his accent was horrible, but he was trying. He was trying, and for that I wanted to sink into him, love him forever.

Dj smiled at me. Stood and walked over to me. A shy kiss on my cheek. And then,"I ...er...hope...umm..someday ...to call you mother."

Tears slide down my cheeks. I know I must look crazy, but I can't help myself.

I suddenly belong to two of the sweetest males on the planet. Any girl would cry.

The days turn into weeks. Wilhelmina takes over Mode.

I get accepted into Columbia University's Journalism school. I decide to attend the nine month Master of Arts program.

Daniel looks totally deflated when I tell him that I will be paying for it, out of pocket, with whatever job I could find.

He offers to pay for my books, room and board.

I accept, knowing that this is his cute little way of asking me to move in with him.

The small house in Queens begins to feel too crowded with two extra people living there.

After two weeks I demand a vacation.

.. I use my sweetest pout, and then my sweetest kiss.

He folds like a house of cards.

I have to say I get a little thrill from the power I hold over him.

"Where do you want to visit sweet Betty?", he asks as he nibbles on my shoulder.

My focus is all gone. "Everywhere", I mutter.

The nibbling stops. I am immediately regretful.

"Everywhere?", he says slowly, "For how long?"

"The summer?", I suggest suddenly warming up to the idea, "We can drive across the country, show Dj America. Heck! Show ME America."

"Betty", he says slowly AGAIN, "You want to drive across the country with an 11 year old?"

I jump up from the bed. Run down the hall. Drag back a surprised Dj.

"Dj", I say, "Do you want to see America?"

He responds with a confused frown.

"Dj", I try again, "Do you want to see Hollywood? Texas? Miami?"

His face lights up. FINALLY. He responds with an emphatic, "Oui!"

I shoo him from the room, turn back to my boyfriend with a triumphant expression.

He laughs. "Okay Betty, but driving really? Do you even know how to drive?"

Jackhole.

I throw him a dirty look. Climb on top of him. Press my forehead against his. "You forget who you are dealing with BABE. I'm a Queens girl, of course I can drive. The question here is, do you even own a car with a backseat?"

A derisive scoff is my only answer.

"What about a SUV?", I ask dropping kisses on his cheeks.

His hands roam up my back. "Landrover."

"I want to leave tomorrow", I say as he pulls my shirt above my head.

"Anything", he growls as he pulls me into his body.

We leave the next day, dark glasses and hoodies covering our faces against the flashing lights and probing questions. We take the town car to the garage that stores Daniel's vehicles.

I'm shocked to discover three motorcyles, four sports cars, two incredibly fancy looking sedans, and one Brand-spanking-new silver Landrover.

I hold my hand out for the keys. He chuckles and mutters something about not until we were out of the city.

I pout all the way to Maryland.

My sudden gasp has him swerving in the road. Dj waking up.

I jump up and down in my seat,"OH MY GOD A WAFFLE HOUSE! I DIDN'T KNOW THOSE WERE REAL! AHH! WE HAVE TO STOP!" I scream as I clap my hands excitedly.

Dj collapses back on his seat. Daniel grabs my hand. Squeezes. "If you ever want to drive this car, you will refrain from screaming and jumping around like a crazy mexican bean."

"That is both inaccurate, and racially offensive." I reply with a smile. I kiss the back of his hand.

We fill up at the Waffle house. We stop in Washington, DC for the afternoon. Daniel books us a ridiculous two bedroom suit, in a ridiculous hotel four blocks from the White House.

Dj takes one room, we take the other. I wake up with Daniel's head buried between my legs.

Heat. I am suffused with heat. I can't even look at him without feeling my body go up into flames.

During breakfast I lay down some ground rules.

Two pairs of bright blue Meade eyes focused in on me.

No more super fancy hotels. From now on we alternate between having a French day and an English day. I get to drive at least six hours a day. And when we feel something negative, have a conflict we all sit down together as a family and figure it out.

They agree to my rules, adding their own.

No overly planned events. No screaming and jumping in the car.

We all shake in agreement.

We spend two months zigzaging across the country; crossing into Mexico once and Canada twice. It is when we reach Seattle, Washington that we decide to visit Japan. Zurich. Petersburg. Spain. Denmark.

We visit Dj's grandparents in France. At first they regard Daniel suspiciously, expecting the tabloid version him. Ready to snatch Dj away at any minute.

Something in the way we interact with one another causes them to soften toward us, and by the time we leave Dj's grandmother is hugging me with tears in her eyes, rubbing my stomach and muttering, "Prenez soin de la petite."

I brush the comment off, many people have mistaken me as being pregnant before.

Must be the wide hips and slightly rounded belly.

Daniel blossoms into a lovingly warm, firm but considerate father. Dj follows his lead in almost everything.

Daniel's French improves, while Dj's English grows by leaps and bounds. Before we reach Mumbai we have created our own language; our sometimes English sometimes French Daniel-Betty-Dj language.

I start my first book while we are touring Greece. I simply sit down one night, and begin typing my Mode story into Daniel's laptop. I am halfway done before the sun comes up.

On our last night in London, Daniel's hand cups my breast as I sit on his lap.

"They're bigger." he mutters to himself.

"What?"

"They are bigger", he says while his eyes roam over my body. Over my face. He lifts my shirt, his hands splayed over my belly.

"You haven't withheld any treats from me since we left New York", he mutters.

I am totally lost.

"I only do that when I'm mad at you", I say as I try to figure out where he is going with all of this.

He shakes his head, "You do it when you are on your period as well."

_Oh._

_No._

_He._

_Didn't._

"WHAT?" I manage to get out past my total embarrassment. "You notice my periods?"

"Well, yea", he said in such a matter of fact way that I felt like I had just entered the twilight zone, "I had to know when to be extra nice, super careful."

_Wow he really did._

The absurdity of the conversation suddenly occurred to me. I shook my head at him. Kissed his lips.

And for the first time ever he pulled away.

"Are you pregnant Betty?"

Pin drop silence, and then.

"It would serve you right, you know, always teasing me the way you do."

More silence.

Am I breathing? I just sit there. Staring. Staring at him. A hand hovering over my belly.

And then I'm up. Out of the door of our suite. Pausing only to push on a pair of shoes that either belong to Daniel or Dj.

Down in the elevator. The gift shop has a minimum selection but I buy two of every test they have. Back up in the elevator.

Into a suite of pacing Meade men. Shaking hands through disheveled hair. Soft blue eyes follow my progression to the bathroom.

Pee in an disposable coffee cup. Dipping eight stick into the yellow liquid.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Pregnant.

I am pregnant. I stare at the tests hard. I am pregnant with Daniel Meade's baby.

A sort of distraught euphoria sweeps over me. Fear. Happiness. Confusion. Happiness. Anxiety. Happiness.

My hands flutter over my stomach as the door to the bathroom suddenly opens.

Determined strides across the bathroom floor. Dj hovering in the doorway.

One tense moment of silence as Daniel picks up one of the tests. And then, "Really, Betty? Did you need to take eight different tests?"

Suddenly he picks me up, sweeps me right off my feet and spins me in a circle.

Happiness overwhelms me.

"A baby?", he yells, YELLS, and then, "You have done some amazing things for me before but this is far and away the best thing you have ever done."

We kiss, pull apart, kiss again. Out of the corner of my eye I see an empty doorway. "Where did Dj go?", I ask.

Daniel looks away from me. Shrugs. Kisses me again, an insane smile on his face.

A dark cloud passes over his face. The smile falls away. "It's not possible that...I mean...I would love it regardless, but is it possible that it might be..umm. Hen-"

"No", I cut across THAT thought. He still looks unsure so I know I have some confessing to do.

"We weren't together for the last three months he was in New York", I admit I can feel my face burning with embarrassment. I'd pretty much admitted to my sexual obsession with him before I was nearly killed.

A chuckle. A finger under my chin lifting my face up. Loving soft blue eyes, and then, "So crazy Renee was right about you being totally in love with me?"

I want to be mad, offended, hurt, SOMETHING but all I can do is chuckle; punch his arm and kiss him again.

I find Dj sulking on the couch under the guise of surfing the internet and listening to his Ipod. I lean over the back of the couch. Touch my fingers gently to his shoulder. He tries to ignore me, much the way Daniel tries to ignore me when he is sulking.

I won't be turned away. I sit next to him on the couch, so close that our hips touch. Tuck my head against his shoulder. Feel the tension slowly leaving his body.

He grabs my hand. I hear a sniffle. I don't move, simply sit and wait.

And then, "Will you and papa send me back to my grandparents now Betty?"

My hand squeezes his, my heart breaking at the turn his thoughts had taken. I pause, gathering myself before I say,"Never."

I turn him to face me. Raise his chin. Our eyes meet.

Hold.

"We are a family, all equal members. You are as important to me as this baby, as important as your father. We will hold onto each other no matter what."

A tear rolls down his cheek. Daniel appears out of nowhere and wipes it away. One arm wraps around Dj, the other around me.

As our plane descends to the blacktop of the JFK runway, I can almost feel the drama radiating off the city like smog. If the swarm of paparazzi at Heathrow were any indication, we would barely make it out of the airport. I clutch Daniel's hand as the plane taxis the runway.

"Can't we just stay on vacation forever?", I ask quietly. He strokes my fingers.

"We can handle this", he says quietly, and then his lips tilt up, "We are both strong, capable, beautiful people."

I slap his bicep. The smirk turns into an outright smile. "Besides, my classes start in two weeks, yours next week, and poor Dj's in three days."

He kisses my hand. Plays with my empty ring finger. "We have to go home and be responsible parents now."

He kisses the finger he's been playing with. Our eyes catch.

Hold.

"We are getting married", he states. Doesn't ask. States.

As far as proposals go, it was pretty damned bold. An order, some would say. It so Daniel Meade-like in it's arrogance that I find myself smiling, instead of frowning.

And then, "That is, if you'll have me." The uncertainty. The shyness. So very Daniel Meade-like in it's sweetness that I felt myself begin to tear up.

"I have you Daniel."

JFK is a clusterfuck of paparazzi, celebrity hang-ons, and rubber necking travelers.

That's right I said fuck.

We briskly make our way through the throng, black glasses, hoodies, and expressionless faces firmly in place. Heads down. Arms wrapped firmly around each other, me in the middle of the Meade men.

Daniel tenses. Stops. A frown tugs his eyebrows together. Several things happen all at once. So blurry that I barely have time to react.

Daniel pushes his hoodie back. Tosses the glasses from his face. He does the same to me.

Then he drops down on one knee, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring. An Irish clauddaugh ring. Gold in color, three stones making it gleam under the fluorescent lights of the airport.

Pin drop silence. Seriously, even the babies stop crying.

"Betty, I was once convinced that love made your palms sweat, and your heart race; after 'perfume-gate' I started feeling that for you all the time. Everyday. Every hour. I thought that meant I loved you, but now I know better."

An audible gasp from the crowd. The press pushes in closer to us.

"Now I KNOW what love is. Love isn't the heat that I feel for you every time I get a whiff of your scent, or when you walk into a room, no it's more than that. My love is finding beauty in everything you are, everything you touch. It's wanting to help you achieve all your dreams and more. It's the pride I feel in you. It's the admiration I feel for you. The joy I feel. I could say, that you make me want to be a better man, because you do. It's more than that though, you make me totally want to remap my life, myself. You make me beautiful. I can't live without you Betty, will you please, PLEASE join your life with mine?"

Everyone turns to me. I could only see him, so eloquent was this beautiful man on his knees begging me to be his forever.

"Yes."

An explosion of applause. Dj hugs me from behind while Daniel kisses my lips and hugs me from the front.

THAT is the picture that is broadcast by Fashion Buzz and is splattered all over the tabloids, mere hours after Daniel slips his family heirloom onto my finger.

_Whoosh_

_Whoosh_

_Whoosh_

_Whoosh_

The sound of our baby's heartbeat fills my ears. Daniel's lips are fast on mine. His tears falling to my face, as our child's life force plays in the background.

Claire visibly sobs from the corner of the room, while my father looks over at me proudly. Dj sits in the corner, transfixed by the image on the 40 inch flat screen in front of us.

And then,"I can see two of them."

Pin drop silence.


End file.
